Motor Home Funeral
A fork has three prongs
I am a cucumber
I live in a shoe
I have no friends
Bring your cat
We can make smoothies
He hasent seen the sun in 21 years
And she's never worn a hat
A tear slips out as he eats his hair
And I can hear the bugs in my walls
Sundays coming
I brought my red raincoat
I want my funeral in my RV
And my goldfish can't come
He knows what he did
poem by Nick Briggs
Added by Poetry Lover
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